Vrasha's Realisation

The next day, Elody still had not returned and Vrasha was starting to get a bit worried. She told herself again and again that Elody could handle herself, but that didn't make her any less concerned for her one true friend in the world. Elody was the only one who had seen her not as a princess or a symbol, but as a person. Of course that was largely because to Elody, being a princess meant very little. Human royalty came and went in the blink of an eye as far as an immortal spirit was concerned. She'd be far more impressed meeting a rare animal which she had never seen before than the mightiest king or queen in the world.

Nevertheless, Vrasha was concerned. She told herself that she would send out searchers for Elody as soon as she got back. It wouldn't do to leave her on her own if she was in danger. But before that, she had other duties to attend to. Karden had invited her to attend a private tour of one of the wells which provided water to the city and she was excited. For some reason, she could not quite remember what had been said when she had talked to him last night but it had been pleasant and put many of her fears to rest. She was hoping that with this chance to talk to him, she could resolve the last of her issues with the slaves and look forward to a bright future of cooperation.

She was in the bathing area getting ready for the meeting. Smoke rose around her in great plumes and she had just gotten out of the copper bath. Water dripped from her naked body as she moved to gather up her towel. As she wrapped it around herself, enjoying the feeling of the fluffy roughness against her skin, Vrasha tried to remember why she had been so concerned about coming here in the first place. She'd been worried about the slaves, obviously. But her trip here had proved that the slaves were happy and doing what they wanted. It was the culture of Gelmina, and she had no right to demand that they change. So long as they were not mistreated - and they did not seem to be - then Vrasha had to concede that they were owed the right to choose their own destiny. And if that destiny was chains, then so be it. That was how it worked.

That was how it had to work.

She looked at herself in the mirror, steam had fogged up the glass so she wiped it away with one hand. Beads of wetness clung to her upper body and her chest. The steam made the room pleasantly warm, so she let her towel cascade to the ground once she was dry enough and examined her body.

Being raised as a princess, Vrasha had been taught to be feminine in all ways. How she moved, how she spoke, how she thought. As she had never been expected to inherit, the goal with her upbringing had been to rear a queen for another land. She had been, to put it bluntly, a pretty decoration. After the war had started, she'd been **** to be a soldier. She'd spent years fighting, training, growing. Much of her former life had been erased.

Her body stood testament to the two paths of her life. She was well formed with long legs and a good figure that she had inherited from her mother. Her chest was small, which was something she had been anxious about when she was younger. She didn't fill out a dress quite as well as her mother had, or some of her sisters, but she'd been taught grace and poise from the moment of her birth. Her whole body had echoed it.

Then you got to the changes which had come more recently. Her upper arms and legs were toned and more powerful. They weren't the limbs of some lady at a ball, but a soldier. Someone who was used to working with heavy loads. She wasn't muscular exactly, but she was obviously strong and it showed. She had no scars, for which she was thankful, but she never wore her hair long now. Long hair could be a problem on the battlefield. It could get caught on something or be grabbed by an enemy. She wore her hair short or at the very least bound up in a ponytail as it currently was.

Never before had she pictured herself as anything other than these two things. A queen or a soldier. Perhaps warrior-queen in her more prideful moments. She had no other fate. Now, however, a third one had crept into her mind. One which filled her stomach with butterflies and made her wonder about everything she had ever believed in.

What if she were a ****?

The idea was hard to put aside even as she struggled. Ever since she had questioned the three slaves that she had been assigned, the idea had surely been in the back of her mind. But now as she looked at her naked body, dripping and wet, it blossomed. What would have happened to her had she lost the fight? If she had been taken alive? She would not have been treated well, she was sure. She would have been stripped naked, bound up in chains and presented to her brother to torment for his amusement. She had thought about it a few times and always before, it had filled her with disgust.

But now she felt something different. Something that made her want to turn away in shame.

She felt arousal.